


How to Fail at Poaching Without Even Trying

by Lywinis



Series: One Shots -- Capsicoul [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Gen, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson, Director of SHIELD, is traveling through the New York Safari Zone when he comes across poachers setting up camp for the night. Wanting to nip the idea in the bud quickly, he reaches out to the Manhattan gym leader, Steve Rogers, for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Fail at Poaching Without Even Trying

Phil’s hand fell to Prosus’s head, and the growlithe set himself en pointe. He squinted through the binoculars at the camp, his position under the tree in the Safari Zone hidden by his bivouac and his ghillie suit. It was hot, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow, even as he watched the activity going on.

Grunts, or what could be classified as grunts. He hadn’t seen those since he teamed up as a consultant with the Kanto police force and drove out the last of the Rockets, sending them so far into hiding that even the mention of a Rocket uniform was reason enough to be run out of town. His eyes narrowed.

Grunts meant bad news. Whatever they were shuttling, it was possible they were linked to the poaching in the area, and if that was the case – Phil was going to be upset. He focused in on the camp, his attention forward.

When the large hand came down on his shoulder, he about jumped out of his skin. Steve Rogers looked down at him, brow quirked at his getup, but he took a knee on the bivouac spread across the grass, broad shoulders tucked down to avoid notice. Shadow took to his belly next to Steve, nudging between him and Phil. Phil patted his nose, and Shadow wuffed in greeting.

Phil pulled the ghillie suit away, trying to get some air moving in the breezeless space. Steve was sweating too, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. The Captain turned his gaze to the camp, and Phil could see blue eyes sharpening as he tensed.

“They’ve been moving about, unpacking that truck, for the last half hour.” Phil’s voice was quiet, pitched low. “It looks like they’re pitching camp for a while, by the gear they’re setting up. I think we might have stumbled upon one of their rotating campsites.”

The grunts had been clever these past few weeks, avoiding detection by packing up and moving every few days. Phil hadn’t been able to pinpoint their whereabouts until Fury had come swooping in, chattering obscenities at him until he followed where his chatot flew. He saw the trucks, unmarked, and he’d set up camp, ready to move once the message got out. Holly had flown fast; it had been less than twelve hours since he’d scribbled the mail and attached it to her leg.

He trusted Steve to help him with this; as a gym leader, he was tasked with upholding the laws of the region where necessary. The fact that the soldier was here, jaw firming as he looked over the campsite, was enough to convince Phil he’d made the right choice after all. Arcade’s gym was closer, but Arcade cared more for his puzzles than for his team. Steve’s legs tensed and Shadow’s eyes narrowed as there was a bang and a slew of cursing from the truck.

“I’ve no idea what they’re moving, but that one, the weaselly looking one, he seems to be the one in charge.” Phil indicated the one in the camp chair, his table littered with pokeballs. Phil focused the binoculars, and noted the traps that sat in various states of completion on the table as well. His lip curled, and he handed the binoculars to Steve.

“He’s…making traps.” Steve’s voice slid into a tone that sent a chill down Phil’s spine, and he looked over to find the square jaw flexing. “What’s the battle plan, Director?”

“I was thinking wait until nightfall, then jumping their base camp with an attack from two sides.” Phil drew out the layout of the camp in the dirt at their feet. “You and Shadow slip around to the west, I attack from here, and we cuff them and prosecute them.”

“I like the way you think.” Steve’s lips quirked in a grin that Phil couldn’t help but return. “We have a specific time for this?”

“No, you’ll see a flare go up when I make my move. It’ll be after sundown, so make sure you’re in position then.” Phil nodded at Steve, and the soldier put a warm hand on his shoulder before he slipped off, Shadow on his heels. Phil turned back to the camp, binoculars trained on the leader.

* * *

 

Sundown felt like it took forever, but soon the land grew dark, and Phil crept closer to the camp, keeping low in the rustling grass. Prosus crept on his belly behind Phil, while Hariolor slipped through the darkening shadows behind the truck. Phil pulled his flare gun from his pouch, sending up the red glow into the air before he stepped into the camp, hand on his belt as the grunts scrambled up from where they’d been sitting.

“Hands in the air, gentlemen, quickstep it now.” Phil’s voice rang out over the camp. “You’re all under arrest for poaching and setting illegal traps, leave your pokemon where they are and we won’t have to confiscate them.”

“ _We_?” The leader scoffed. “All I see is one old man with a pretty weak pokemon who doesn’t know who I am.”

“Oh, I know very well who you are, Mister Kingsley. SHIELD has been after you for a long, long time. You go by the code name ‘Hobgoblin’ when you’re out here, but back in civilization, you’re known as Roderick Kingsley, head of Infinitus Fabrics.”

Kingsley dropped all four legs of his camp chair to the earth. “Well, well. Looks like someone bit off more than they could chew. I’m going to enjoy peeling your pokemon from your cold, dead fingers.”

Prosus growled, but it was drowned out in a roar as Shadow leapt into the camp from the other side, Steve sliding off the arcanine’s back and planting his feet, shield in hand.

“I think you’re going to have more trouble with that than you might think, Kingsley,” Steve said, Shadow pacing in front of him and growling.

Kinglsey looked over, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Well, now. Captain America himself. What an honor. Too bad the same can’t be said for your friend here.”

He snapped out his fingers at Phil. “Destroy them.”

The grunts stepped forward, but Hariolor darted from the shadows, her fire blast causing them to scatter, taking cover as the tent went up in a bright ball of flames. She planted herself in front of Phil, red fur standing on end.

“Oh, what a pretty color for an absol,” Roderick said. “I’m really going to enjoy this, grabbing a rare pokemon and a rare color to boot.”

“Try it, Kingsley, and I’ll break your fingers in one of your traps,” snapped Phil.

Steve was taking care of the grunts, the zubat and golbat they sent after him no match for Shadow’s thunder fang. He secured each of them with zip ties, their hands bound behind their backs, while Phil faced down Kingsley. It was easier, Phil noted, than battling them all at once. Even if Prosus could have done the same, it was better to keep his eyes on the leader.

“Stand down, Kingsley.” Phil folded his arms. “You’re outmatched and outgunned.”

“I don’t think so, old man,” Kingsley said. “Skarmory! We are leaving! Show them what it means to be outmatched.”

A metallic shriek echoed from the sky, and Phil heard the clattering of feathers. He knew better, he knew the man would have something up his sleeve, and even though all of his grunts were down, Phil had been so sure.

The skarmory belched a puddle of toxic goop, aiming straight for Steve. Phil’s reflexes were quick, and the shoulder in Steve’s back as staggered out of the way of the poison made him grunt. Phil was splashed with the goop, even as Kingsley’s men cried out in pain. Roderick laughed, holding onto the steel pokemon’s leg, and was gone in a whirlwind that kicked up a cloud of dust.

Phil took a knee, the poison coursing through him as Roderick’s men suffered the same fate. His vision doubled, and he heard Glory shrieking in the darkness as she chased after the skarmory, but he didn’t know if she’d catch him. Steve dropped to a knee next to him, a hand on his chest, and Phil leaned into the shoulder offered.

“Side pouch, should be antidotes. Full heals won’t work on humans.” Steve pulled out the little vials, blue liquid sloshing in them, and counted them. He swore, and Phil looked up to see why. Eight grunts, eight vials – and none for him. “Give it to them.”

“What about you?” Steve asked, his eyes hardening in the light of the fading tent fire.

“I’ll handle it. We can make it to Professor Banner’s if we head east from here.” Phil coughed, then retched, his breakfast staying down but only just. “Do it. Radio SHIELD for pickup, and we’ll truck to Banner’s.”

Steve’s jaw firmed, and he injected each of the grunts, tossing the empty vials in the back of the truck before loading up his prisoners. He looked at the truck’s cab, noting the keys were gone and weren’t in the possession of any of the grunts. He swore again, kicking at the tire, before he pulled the radio from Phil’s belt.

“SHIELD headquarters, do you copy? This is Captain Rogers of the Manhattan Gym.”

“We read you five by five, Captain, does the Director have news for us?”

“We have more than that. Eight hostiles secured and ready for transport. I’ll give you the coordinates. The Director has been hurt, however, and I am moving him to Professor Banner’s lab for emergency treatment.” He gave them their present coordinates.

“Ten-four, Captain. We’ll arrange for pickup.”

Steve looked over at Phil, shivering on his knees as Shadow curled around him, Prosus tucked under Phil’s arm. His eyes hardened, and he strode over.

“Shadow, we’ve got to get him treated,” he said, and the arcanine whuffed in response, standing up. He picked Phil up, cradling him against his chest before he turned to Shadow and set the agent on his pokemon’s back. “Phil.”

Phil groaned, leaning forward into Shadow’s broad ruff, his face pressed into fur that smelled like smoke. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on. Steve’s lips thinned as he considered.

“Shadow, you can take both our weight?” he asked. Shadow looked at him like he was silly for asking. Steve shrugged, slipping up and behind Phil, cradling the agent again between his arms. He slid his shield onto his back, lifting his feet and putting his full weight on Shadow. He looked down at the little ones, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to keep up. “You guys have pokeballs, probably…here.”

He found them, labeled with their names, on Phil’s belt, and both Prosus and Hariolor nosed into theirs. Steve tucked them into his jacket for safe keeping, then leaned forward on Shadow’s back.

“All right, Shadow, east. We’re looking for Professor Banner’s lab.” Shadow responded with a growling huff, embers appearing from his jaw, and took off running. Steve was always amazed at exactly how much speed arcanine could put on, one hand holding tight to his mane and the other wrapped around Phil’s chest. He was shivering, but Steve could feel the heat Phil was putting off, and he leaned forward, burying his head in the Director’s shoulder, leaning them against Shadow’s back so he could run faster.

“Hold on just a little longer, Phil.” He could only hope they got there in time.

* * *

 

Phil woke to the wet sensation of Prosus’s tongue on his face. He opened his eyes, his head pounding, and discovered he was in Professor Banner’s lab. The good professor was sitting at the table with the Captain, drinking tea and talking to him in a low voice. Steve looked agitated, his hair rumpled as Peggy sat in his lap, the furret stealing crumbs from his plate. He glanced over at Phil, and looked relieved to see Phil looking at him and blinking in the low lights of the lab.

Phil was on a cot, his growlithe on his right and his legs felt heavy. He looked down to see Hariolor tucked over his legs, sleeping. His gear was laid out next to the cot, and he realized he was shirtless as well. He put a hand to his face, his first noise a groan that was more of a whisper as he rubbed a dry tongue over even drier teeth.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Director,” Bruce murmured and knelt beside the cot to take his pulse. “You’re lucky the Captain got you here in time. Toxic is nasty business, as you well know.”

He nodded, his eyebrows rising in question. Bruce seemed satisfied that his pulse was normal, and sat back. “Captain, there are cups in the cabinet nearest you. Will you get the Director some water, and fill a bowl so we can get this salve off his chest?’

Phil realized then that his chest felt tacky, and not a little numb. He looked down, and an unappetizing blue paste greeted him. Bruce folded back the blanket, and he saw it extended almost to his navel.

“I didn’t have any spare antidote on hand, so I ended up making you a salve out of Pecha berries. It was the only way to draw out the poison. You’ve been asleep about six hours.”

“Kingsley?” he managed a croak as Steve knelt beside him, a large warm palm helping him sit up so he could drink.

“He got away,” Steve said, and Phil could see the tick where Steve’s jaw was working. “He used it on his own men. What sort of coward does that?”

“A rich man who’s always paid for what he wanted,” Phil replied. “His men are tools to be exploited, just like his pokemon.”

He lay back, still a little shaky, and Bruce wiped off the salve. He shivered, and Prosus curled closer, huffing quietly.

“Much appreciated, Professor.” Phil closed his eyes for a moment. He felt the sensation of eyes on him, and he cracked open an eyelid to see Steve looking at him, his lip between his teeth. “Something on your mind, Captain?”

“It’s Steve, to the both of you,” he said, nodding to Bruce, who stepped to the sink to pour out the water and rinse his cloth. “I was wondering why. I can bull through poison pretty easy. Why push me out of the way?”

“Reflex,” Phil said. “I didn’t think, just acted.”

“It almost got you killed,” Steve murmured.

“It happens.” Phil rolled a shrug, conscious of the scar that was visible. It ran from the top of his shoulder almost to his navel, a long, twisted gash from a mugger almost a year ago. Prosus wriggled on top of him, licking his face again. He buried his fingers in the growlithe’s ruff, soothing him.

“You didn’t have to,” Steve said.

“I did.” Phil shook his head. “You need someone to watch your back. One of these days, you’ll come across something you can’t deal with alone.”

Steve looked taken aback. Phil closed his eyes again, Prosus lying still on his chest.

“You protect the things that are important to you. That’s how it works. That’s why I’m SHIELD, and why I work to police the Northeast region.” His fingers carded through the growlithe’s fur, and it was quiet for a moment. The scrape of a chair across the floor caught his attention. He turned his head, and saw that Steve had pulled a chair over so he could sit beside the cot.

“Thank you, Phil,” Steve said, his hand reaching out to pet the growlithe on the head.

“Any time, Captain.” Their fingers brushed, and Phil let his hand drop from Prosus’s fur as he lay back down. He drifted off to the sound of his growlithe’s snores and the scratch of a pencil on paper.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble written a long, long time ago for an old RP account. (How old, do you ask? Well, it's since been rebooted into a genderswapped Phil account. The group fell through a long time ago.)
> 
> I love AUs, completely and utterly. Pokemon especially. I wrote up a bunch of things on Phil's role within the universe here --
> 
> http://foxedattheedgesarchived.tumblr.com/pokemonAU
> 
> For Phil's pokemon, their movesets, and how he acquired them, see here --
> 
> http://foxedattheedgesarchived.tumblr.com/post/43760670293/phils-pokemon-moves-and-stats-pokemon-au


End file.
